Choices
by Milareppa
Summary: We only ever saw Shepherd Book's decision to join Serenity - but he wasn't the only one who had to make that choice.


**Choices**

Smoke swirled. A heady scent of grilled dog meat wreathed the air with a greasy miasma as an old yellow mule kicked up a cloud of dust, obscuring the ship at which the young man had been staring.

He quickly moved on, not waiting for his vision to clear as he cautiously rearranged his glasses. It seemed absurd to be wearing shades in this lung-choking environment but they did protect his eyes from the dust and the smog. Practicality aside, however, it wasn't a common sight here. It was therefore not really something he could afford to be wearing - except that he'd been advised to look respectable; his fastest ticket off the planet was for crews to feel confident that he could pay his way.

Fortunately for him, respectability was an old friend, one he was capable of wearing like a second skin. Unfortunately, it made him look painfully out of place. Here, in such rough, backwater docks, he stood out like a _Zongyi_ would stand out in the Core.

He had to get off this rock.

There had been no shortage of offers but, even rushed as he was, he couldn't find it in his heart to agree to travel on any ship he had thus far encountered. Either it was the ship that bothered him or it was the crew. Usually, it was both.

There was nothing to which he would trust his cargo.

The ship that had been obscured by the oily cloud was large, with a tough, rugged look. Like most of the vessels in port, it had clearly seen better days. If he had been forced to describe it in terms of human personality, he would have called it the _qing sou_ of the shipping world. He considered it apt, therefore, when its ingratiating, overeager spokesman admitted that its name was _The_ _Brutus_.

Nothing about the ship - or the man selling its dubious virtues - appealed to him so, when that busy yellow mule allowed him an opportunity to escape, he employed the virtues of _zou wei shang ji_ without hesitation.

He was starting to become discouraged. He was fairly certain he had successfully outrun his enemies but every moment he lingered on this planet he was pushing his luck that one extra step. Given the trouble he was in, he couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of response that might be marshalled against him but he suspected it would be subtle. That was the one thing he did know: everything they did was subtle – at least, to the public eye, that was.

What he had managed to see behind the closed doors, however...

'I know what you're lookin' for.'

The voice derailed his musings with sunny confidence. He didn't even question that he was the person being addressed, turning smartly on his heel before he was consciously aware he had even reacted. Facing the gaping maw of an open cargo bay, a ship he hadn't spared a second glance towards, his gaze even now was not drawn to the ship but to the sight in front of it.

She was seated in a deckchair - one with an old, worn look about it. The kind that had been used for so long it had moulded itself to the body of the one who most frequently sat in it. In front of the chair were a few battered cargo boxes on which she had propped her feet; feet swamped in oversized and highly colourful sandals.

His gaze drifted from her exposed toes and up to her face. Workman's overalls, barely hidden by a bright blue Chinese shirt - the most pathetic attempt to dress up that he had ever seen. A round face; pale, clean skin; messily bound dark hair; a fumbling attempt at a respectability that obviously didn't come naturally to her.

Twirling a paper parasol that was painted with an almost hallucinogenic spiral, she stood out almost as much as he did. Nothing about her seemed to fit the local scenery - not the slight form that was obscured by baggy overalls; nor the half-hearted attempt at dressing up; nor the complete lack of presentation etiquette. The woman was a mess and a contradiction, nothing by which to be impressed.

It was therefore with great personal puzzlement that he found himself pausing long enough to meet her gaze instead of turning around and continuing on his way_. _

'_Nin shuo shenme_?' He had not planned on speaking to her at all but found himself asking the question before he was even aware he had opened his mouth. Her face lit up with a delighted smile and its raw purity startled him.

'I know what you're lookin' for,' she tilted her head, studying him. Her gaze swept over his form, as if appraising the worth of his clothing could tell her whether or not he had the ability to pay her asking price.

'And what's that?' He quietly cursed his curiosity as he responded to that unsubtle challenge. He should have been sensible. He should have walked away.

'A lady,' the smile broadened into a grin as his eyebrows lifted. The woman pointed over one shoulder at the ship parked behind her. 'There she is, a real lady. Take you where you need to go, be all manner of respectin' for them as would trust.'

After hours of listening to the same old selling pitches, he had to admit it was a new approach. Almost unwillingly, he glanced up at the ship to study it for the first time... and found himself quite unable to see the attraction. He didn't know much about ships but he could tell it was old. There was rust in places, fuel stains. Her hull was dotted with cobbled plating and discoloured metalwork. She'd seen her fair share of mileage and that was unmistakable - even to a layman like him.

'That's a lady?' Why wasn't he leaving yet? His brain was certainly telling him to do exactly that but again his mouth was running away without his permission. The ship didn't look like a lady - it looked like a crash survivor, held together by little more than hope and luck.

'Oh, sure she is,' the woman sounded shocked by his question, as if she really believed what she had just said. He studied the vessel dubiously. Aware that the ship's advocate had risen to her feet and walked across to him, he wondered whether she was an excellent salesgirl or simply deluded. For the moment, however, he knew she had him where she wanted him - he may have been sceptical, but he _was_ looking at the ship rather than moving on.

The woman turned next to him, as if studying the vessel from his point of view. She put down her parasol and he realised she wasn't quite as small as she had initially appeared. A few inches shorter than himself, quite average really - just like him. 'She don't look all fine and frilled, but pretties don't go makin' no lady. Put a princess to a sack cloth, don't change her right to be queen.'

He glanced down at her, thoughtfully. Her head was tilted up, watching the ship. She wasn't even paying attention to him anymore. There was a faint scent hovering in the air, something floral; soap or shampoo, maybe, but it wasn't perfume. It was as if she had scrubbed up solely to pitch to potential customers, as if her appearance wasn't something she usually thought much about at all. That dazzling smile was back on her lips and her gaze was roving over the lines and bumps he had so quickly dismissed. It was an expression of pure, unconditional love.

An emotion with which he was painfully familiar.

It was that look in her eyes that made him realise that her speech really wasn't a lie. She honestly did believe there was more to this _lao feiwu_ than surface appearances. A mess and a contradiction - his initial assessment had applied to the woman. Despite his doubts, he was intrigued enough to wonder if that might not also apply to the ship.

He couldn't believe he was even contemplating boarding this piece of _lese._

The woman looked at him suddenly and must have realised he still needed convincing because the smile faded slightly. She studied his face intently, as if searching for something, then her wide dark eyes narrowed, realisation flowering across her features.

Alarm bells ringing in his mind, he drew back, intending to leave before she could alert anyone... but she said not a word, instead hesitantly reaching out. She had small, unpampered hands; a few calluses in places; short, ragged nails - clear evidence that she worked a hard, manual job. The overalls had already made him suspect she was the ship's mechanic, her hands told the same story.

Before he could completely comprehend her intention, she was sliding both of her hands along the temples of his glasses and lifting them off his nose. He opened his mouth to issue a warning but the deed was done. He blinked rapidly a few times, his now exposed eyes compensating for the change of light and the dust-laden breeze. Upon refocusing, he found her studying the shades intently, the temple arms most of all, which - in her hands at least - lay undamaged.

Abruptly, she looked up and met his gaze. Her dark eyes were intense, strangely compelling. 'You'll like her,' she commented softly, gently placing the shades back on his nose. 'Ain't a thing you can say against.'

He automatically raised his hand to correct the left temple arm but found it sitting on his ear, exactly as it should. Even he, knowing the secret fragility of these particular frames, despite possessing hands gifted with the power to handle such fragility, struggled sometimes to achieve what she had so effortlessly managed.

A sudden smile lit her face at his gesture - a little smug, a little sly, mostly playful. Without dropping his gaze she held out her hand. 'Name's Kaylee,' she said cheerfully. 'And this ship here is _Serenity_.'

She was assuming a done deal and, he realised, it was. He nodded, unable to pinpoint exactly when in the conversation he had given in, or how she could be so confident that he had. There was more to this mechanic than met the eye and that made him uneasy. He still wasn't convinced by the ship - even the name sent a macabre chill down his spine - but maybe that made it the right choice: the disreputable hiding the respectable. The last place in the 'verse anyone would think to search for him.

'Simon,' he replied politely. 'My name's Simon.'

He froze.

What kind of _ben tiansheng de yi dui rou_ would reveal their real name?

Her hand dropped back to the side of her body, untouched. That smile dazzled her face again. If she was offended by his stiff greeting, or concerned by the name he had given, she hid it well.

Finally surrendering to his need to get off Persephone, he forced aside his unease and with false calm, inclined his head.

It was far too late for regrets.


End file.
